You tempt me, beckoning with sugared silk,
allure a golden promise whispered on the tongue.

I cannot resist.

Eyes drift closed,
chin rising as I inhale the intoxicating scent of you—
slowly, deliberately.
Exhale,
desire declared with silent hunger.

Teeth graze my bottom lip,
anticipation building
until your pliable stiffness yields,
enters my mouth in a welcoming embrace,
igniting on contact.
And then the explosion—symphony of maple
melting as I swirl my tongue,
exploring every nuanced velvet crumb,
every crystalline grain of bliss
in a slow cadence of flavor—sweet oblivion.
Each nibble, an encore—
from first taste to lingering ecstasy,
you fill me.

Dear Peace,

My greatest love is you. Fondly, I recall peaceful, happy times, now bittersweet and nostalgic memories. You were present at family gatherings. I would hear such wonderful and inspiring verses being read from the bible. Each waltz in the living room erased another day’s conflicts and errors. I longed for love and then I had a dream featuring you. Wheat and grass surrounded and overtowered me as I ran through the field. I noticed a hand in my grasp and while looking at him; I knew I was safe, and it felt like you. This meant I could stop running away from conflict. Not just physically, but the mental war. I just don’t feel like I fit in. I purposely observe others to learn how to communicate with others, so conversations can flow smoothly. Sometimes I envy others and how it seems like no matter how dumb their conversions seem to be, they laugh. Although my dumb remarks have sometimes drawn ridicule. Anyway, the times I have felt wronged in my life or accused of wrong-doings in my life by hypocrites are astonishing! Despite: Although provoked, I would cool off to avoid further mental distress. I’ve always kept my feelings concealed, and it always had worked. I’m not perfect and I’ve struggled with anger. Some days didn’t go as planned, leading me to snap verbally when someone annoyed me. A couple of physical attacks, most likely from a sibling or a family member. I like to avoid confusion because it feels like a mental nausea and unlike a headache; it doesn’t hurt. It just feels like there are tangled ropes in my mind. I’m not at ease when I’m confused because I freeze and I don’t react or speak and it becomes my dream paralysis, but this time I’m awake in real life. I struggle to respond, fearing judgment and ridicule. After COVID, I met someone, and it seemed like I had finally met you in real life. I couldn’t understand a single word he was saying to me; when the words that I knew would hurt me; they just didn’t hurt me. I must have been in a trance. I experienced a mental pause, like a video, and the lingering confusion became invisible. If he spoke beautiful words to me, I would recognize him as the one. I don’t know if he knew what to say, but when I felt like I was ugly, he complemented my outfit, making me feel like I was beautiful again. Exclusion was a regular feeling until I took part in group activities, even if they seemed foolish, like the conversations I envied. I wished to be a creative leader, but a lack of confidence held me back. I once gave a speech. When I was done, I saw him smile and whisper it was creative. The days I felt dumb, he called me smart. My last encounter with him, I had felt foolish. He told me I was wise. His departure made me feel as though you had also left. My mind resumed the video, increasing my confusion; Or maybe, used to you, that confusion felt odd. Confusion came back to haunt me. It still has not become clear to me if this interaction was an angel of peace, an addictive drug, a trick, or the devil’s illusion, because I can’t quite remember the ill words if he ever did. He gave me what I desired to hear. Before covid, I functioned chaotically, yet somehow thrived under stress. I want to be clear that understanding social cues was difficult, and I felt it often took me much longer than others, no matter how much I desired the opposite. Even amidst the world’s relentless pace, your patience remained through him. When I didn’t want to talk, you would ask me, and I froze and I hesitated, but you asked another time, making it seem you would listen and be patient with me when nobody else would, and I thank you for that. Since I’m aware he is gone forever, I still hope to see you again. I experienced these peaceful memories, despite their addictive nature. I will always remember you and cherish all those memories in my heart.

Dear Wobbly
You were my pride and joy. The world seemed like a better place with you in it. You made everything bright and colorful. Now, I find myself seeing the world in a different shade.
When I saw you in the yard staring at a butterfly. I loved you at first sight. Then you got up to chase it and my heart broke into. You were wobbling side to side your back legs you could hardly use. I tried to catch you, but you ran away. I was so surprised at how fast you were given your state. You finally trusted me and I brought you to live inside. I smile even as I write this. I put pillows down all over the house. So you won’t fall and hurt yourself; even though you wobbled, you still loved to climb. You loved cuddles and kisses. You loved being squished. You would cuddle for hours.
Nevertheless, nothing lasts forever, and it broke my heart when you began to fade. I knew you would die, they told me so, but I never thought so soon. For six wonderful years, you were mine, and I cherished every day with you. It broke my heart to let you go. The world seems so empty without you. You would light up the room with your wobbly walks and beautiful face. I know you won’t want me to be sad forever, but everything’s grey without you. I miss you every day. You brought me joy, and now there is sadness in its place. I don’t feel whole with you gone. It’s like you took a piece of me with you. You will always be in my heart and I hope someday to see you again. However, until that day comes I will live with knowing you were loved and I took care of you well. For a brief moment you were a piece of heaven I held in my arms each day. I hope someday to once again see your beautiful face.

Love Nanette.

Ocean,

I used to hate you, but now I love you.

I thought you were too messy when I met you. Your grains of sand would stick to my clothes, find their way to my hair, and slip into the cracks of my shoes’ soles. Whenever we would part ways, there would still be little reminders of you on me. God, it was annoying. It was like I couldn’t shake your existence.

You were so salty. When I took a dip in your cold water, I would taste it in my mouth. You soured my breath, and I felt dirty around you. Your seaweed would wrap around my legs, as if begging for me to stay in the water. I found that rather clingy. For a while, I refused to touch you, Ocean.

It was so infuriating how everybody loved you, like you could do no wrong. People called you beautiful and peaceful, compliments pouring out of their mouths like waterfalls. They would take pictures of you. Paint pictures, even. They would travel for hours to see you. Maybe I was envious of you. I wanted to be liked as much as you.

But as I grew up, you grew on me. I realized what people see when they idolize you. Being around you makes me feel calm. You made me realize there is so much more to this world, beyond your horizon. You put me at ease. Your sound is like a lullaby that could put me to sleep.

I love you when not everybody does. There’s a unique charm in your winter coldness that I adore, far more than the summer warmth everyone else loves. Because you are cold like me, yet I still find you beautiful. We were more alike than I thought. You are more peaceful in the wintertime because I only share you with a few other people. You sit with me and let me process my thoughts, which can become overwhelming in such a hectic world. You are there for me without saying a word. Sometimes, words do not need to be spoken to make somebody feel better, and that you understand.

Through all four seasons of the year, you were there for me. I am grateful to have known you for so long because some people will never meet you. You remained a constant in my tumultuous life. You are something I can depend on and see when I need to take a breather from everyone and everything around me. Time and time again, I have stared at you for hours and have not gotten bored.

You have shown me beauty from your vastness. I am a speck in the grand universe.

Thank you, Ocean, for showing me how little everything matters in this world. I get caught up in my anxiety that every small action I take will have an exponential impact on my life. You remind me life is so much greater than my microscopic mistakes.

I love you, Ocean, and I am eternally grateful for you.

Love, Chloe

Dear “Yellow” by Coldplay,

You are more than just a song; you are a lifeline. There are no perfect words to fully capture how much you mean to me, but if you could feel even a fraction of the love and comfort you’ve given me, you’d understand how you saved me.

When my friend passed away, you became my anchor, my light in the darkness. Losing him was my first true experience with grief, and it shattered me in ways I never imagined. We were only in high school when the weight of his inner world became too much to bear, and he took his own life. When he left this world, it felt like a part of me did too. I didn’t know how to move forward, how to exist in a world where he no longer did.

Music has always been my outlet for difficult emotions, so I turned to you and you welcomed me with open arms. Your melody, lyrics, and rhythm instantly became the most beautiful and comforting presence in my life. Your heartfelt message resonated with every fiber of my being. Your lyrics perfectly voiced the love I wish I could’ve expressed: “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.” To me, he was always the brightest light and for him, I would’ve done anything to take his pain away.

I yearned to feel connected to him again. It’s as if you read my mind because the more I listened to you, the closer I felt to him. You became a channel for our connection; it felt like I was singing your lyrics to him and he was there, listening in spirit.
Though he passed eight years ago, you’ve given me the gift of keeping his memory alive. You helped me realize that despite him no longer being physically here, that doesn’t mean I lost him forever. His presence lingers in between every guitar chord and drum beat; our connection is still deeply real and it’s all because of you.

I thought grief was only a dark, painful mix of emotions, but you’ve allowed me to see the light in it, a light I never thought I’d find. The beautiful thing is that you did this effortlessly, simply by existing. Even though you can’t take my pain away, you help me sit with it and that’s enough. You allow me to close my eyes, sway to your beat, and never judge me when all my emotions get the best of me. Whether I’m crying hysterically and can barely breathe, feeling bouts of guilt and helplessness, or just sitting in silence, numb—you always meet me with love and compassion.
You let me come and go freely, staying as long as I need to feel some relief, whether that means listening two, three or even ten times in a row. You’re always there for me, day or night, no matter what. You’re my shoulder to lean on and my reminder that I’m never alone, even when it feels that way.

You’re my number one song, forever. While most people may grow tired of hearing the same song over and over, I could never—not with you. You’ve earned the title of the most beautiful and meaningful song to ever exist. Everything about you touches my heart and soul.
You elicit a sense of peace that no other song could ever come close to. Each time I listen, you captivate me like it’s the first time. From the very first second, any stress instantly melts away and I discover more reasons to fall more in love with you.

Now, whenever I look up at the sky full of stars, I see how they shine for both me and him. The lyrics I once thought were only my message to him have also become his message to me; he views me in the same light. Whenever I listen to you, I feel our love flowing back and forth and I know he’s beside me, smiling and cheering me on. It gives me hope and strength to keep going—to live for him, to do all the things he wanted to but never got the chance to, to carry his spirit forward and let him live vicariously through me. And with you, it feels like we’re connected more than ever and it’s just us against the world.

So thank you, for capturing our love for each other and bringing us closer together again. You’re the invisible string between me on Earth and him in heaven.

Without you, grief would’ve broken me. But you’ve given me a space to honor my pain, meet my heart with compassion, embrace the highs and lows, and let grief shape me rather than shatter me—and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Love,

Jessica Freile

At my lowest moments, you are always there to pick me up
From break ups to make ups
To a brighter day to umm, I forget that one by Jay
You just make me feel a way
I can’t explain it, it’s a vibe

There are some days we discuss aggravated robberies, with ski masks over our skulls
No real plans to do it
It’s just you have to lighten up your days
You know, they can be so dull
Bouncin’ back from being bumped against the wall
Even though some of the falling pieces don’t breakeven
I still get back to me

Loving your many different styles
Many different genres
Just to be with you, I’ve traveled miles
The way I love you, I won’t dare try to compare
Rhythm and Blues when I cruse
Pop & Hip-hop when I shop
Classic strings when I reminisce on things
Rap when I wanna scrap
There is never a time when your not there
I see you looking, just know I don’t like to share

Dear Library –any library—every library in all corners of the Earth (and maybe even beyond),

You were my first love. I can smell the aroma and feel the hushed silence and energy emanating from the knowledge even now in my mind as I think about the first time I entered you.

I do not remember specifically when, but I know specifically where.  I am positive I had many trips to the library with my grandmother, mom, and aunt on Saturday afternoons in my home town every few weeks as even an infant, but when I think about the early visits, I was at that age where I could make sense of words and their meaning. 

I can see myself as a little girl, stretched out in the aisles, specifically the biography aisles, combing through the first book I really remember reading about, Helen Keller. I can see myself pulling other books, looking at the back page first—there is something about that back page! 

I still remember feeling there was not enough time to pick out a book because I wanted THEM ALL, and just could not ever decide.  Hungry, I was so hungry for knowledge—all forms of it—there was this unknown concept of truth I carried in my heart, my mind, my soul, even then as a little girl.  I have diaries filled with this yearning for the “Truth.”  For, I instinctively knew it could only be found in the shelves of a library.

Dear Library, every single one of you I visit—whether in my city, my state, my country, or another city, state, or country (and I have visited several in my quest for Truth)—you all smell and feel the exact same. 

When I pass by one of your buildings—anywhere—I feel compelled to genuflect, for you are the Holiest of Holies. 

A library does not discriminate against its shelves…ALL books are welcome.  All themes, all colors, all topics, all languages—the library does not judge.

A library does not judge.

A library just “is” and let’s me be…dear library, YOU let me be whatever “me” I choose to be.

Because of you, dear library, any of us can escape to other lands.  Because of you, dear library, any of us can learn about absolutely anything we want…without the fear of being oppressed.

A library remains silent in its thoughts because a library is wise and understands that the truly wise are still and allow the space for growth and reflection and questions while others come to their own conclusions from knowledge gained.

Dear library, you are my best friend. I can come to you with any problem, and you can offer insight with your many shelves.  I will find someone who existed somewhere who has experienced what I am experiencing at any moment.

I know if heaven exists, and I believe it does, a library is just beyond the pearly gates—grand, wide, inclusive, and welcoming like any church existing, ever existed, or will exist in the future should be.

Oh, my dear tattered T,
How I love you so.
Found in a mall long ago
Among Hot Topic’s tableau,
Catching the eye of this young esthete.

Captivated by your design,
The notes all twirling ‘round,
Playing some mysterious sound,
A song to sing, but left unfound,
With only a skull to sign the by-line.

Many years have you sustained
To class, concerts, meets, and more,
Meeting the eyes who so adore
Your splendor without glamor,
Becoming threadbare but never stained.

Snugger than you were before,
Hugging my frame much tighter.
These days you feel lighter,
But you stay strong, my fighter,
Filling me each wear with ardor.

Some may say your time has come,
That you’re better fit for the grave,
No longer the current rave,
Not worth another save.
Still, I think you’re awesome.

I found you at a vulnerable time
When I was confused about things in my mind
Such a lonely place
Over and over the thoughts race
Looking for love, time and affection
Only to learn later in life…
Man’s rejection is God’s protection
From a time of promiscuousity
Fighting threw insecurity
You always listened and never judged
I return to you with my hopes and love
With secrets I can’t say aloud
Moments in my heart that make me feel proud
I appreciate all the moments
We’ve been able to share
Even when I put you down
And even inanimate I truly cared

To My Dear Hardwood Floor,

There has always been something about a well worn and used hardwood floor; the kind that gets smothered by the weight of a thousand stories. The dust and dirt and scuffs tell stories of long nights, the kind beginning with a casual two step and ending with a stranger being pulled closer than their partner ever meant to. It’s the place where my boots hit the ground in rhythm with the drums, some moving in perfect sync and others trying to look over their shoulder to watch the next step.

My floor has known the weight of tired bodies after a long week, the hesitant shuffle of someone gathering the courage to ask the pretty girl sitting alone for a dance, the quiet comfort of a chest to chest slow dance when words aren’t enough. You have been the setting for first kisses in the middle of a spinning turn, for whispered promises under neon lights, for goodbyes that hit harder than the final chords of a sad song. Through it all, no matter the emotion, my hardwood floor has caught me through it all.

You’ve had your share of being soaked in whiskey and beer. You have seen tempers flare, caught spilled tears and secrets, moment’s where the wrong song played at the wrong time, when two people stood inches apart- neither willing to walk away first. But, you’ve also held the reckless joy of hands clasped tight, of boots sliding easy across the wood, of laughter spilling between lyrics.

The true love of my life has truly healed a heart it didn’t break. It has healed me emotionally, and sent me on the adventures of a lifetime. No matter what has happened, you have been there to keep the music playing and my heart beating. You allow me to press my stories and emotions, anger and anguish and being alive, into the wood beneath me, allowing me to leave nothing behind but dust. You give me hope, allow me to leave footprints, but always promising that I can come back for one more song.

Love,

A girl head over heels to line dance

Dear Hip-hop,

How can I attempt to illuminate and help the world see
What it is that you mean to me?
It seems to me to be
An impossibility,
And yet if there’s any art that’s key
To settin’ the truth free,
It’s this rap game, this word wizardry.

So let me speak clearly–

As you tend to do
Let me paint a picture large enough to show ‘em all what’s true–
‘Bout every last facet of wonderful you.
Your good and your bad both deserve attention,
Here’s me tryin’ to hold them together in beautiful tension.

At 13, you made me feel alive- bumpin’ 50 Cent’s beats and bars while hustlin’ morning newspapers to my middle-class suburban neighborhood. Now, don’t get it twisted, you already know that I was never a gangsta. I grew up in a university town with university parents, chillin’ pretty near the top of ole Maslow’s hierarchy.

I didn’t know gang violence, profound poverty, or the proliferation of drugs. So, why did I, a nerdy, goodie-two-shoes kid fall so hard for you? Why did I risk my parent’s wrath, computer viruses, and legal trouble downloading your tracks off LimeWire? Stealing verses from 50 Cent, Eminem, 2Pac, and Luda? (Hopefully the statute of limitations comes in clutch to save me from this confession of my crimes and hopefully those rap masters forgive me for accessing their art in an illicit manner).

I’ve turned that question over for years. The answer is unfinished, but that’s what makes you powerful- you don’t demand neat explanations. What makes our love beautiful is that it doesn’t have to explain itself; it doesn’t need argumentation and logic to prove its worth; it doesn’t have to be classified or codified; it can just be appreciated for how it feels.

And hip-hop, you make me feel. All the feels- not just the positive ones of inspiration, hype, and connection. Also, discomfort, tension and contradiction.

Because yeah, you’re problematic-misogyny, glorification of violence, hatred, and division to name a few sticky spots. My parents would have clutched their pearls if they knew what lyrics you planted in my young mind. And yet, your tempestuous tracks gave me something real- a voice. A pulse. A reason to listen deeper. A reason to write.

So, when I found myself stumped, stuck in my job, feeling like another cog in the machine, I brought you into my classroom. Not just for the sweet beats, but as a blueprint. For fun, for connection, for opening minds a little wider. And in so doing, you changed me. You changed my students. You taught us how words can build bridges, how they can tear down walls, how they can transform just another boring day into something magical.

One student, quiet as a whisper, came alive as I rapped about the Holocaust, offering to make a music video for the track. A young lady who never saw herself in the pages of a book saw herself in your hard-hitting lines. You helped her to write and write and write- who she is, what she’s seen, and what she dreams of. You taught these students—and me—that resilience isn’t just about survival. It’s about remixing what we’re given- flipping the beat, finding the flow, and making something new.

While there is enough to this love story of ours to fill a whole book, I’d better sign off here. And what better way to do so than with more bars from and about the heart of it all?

Hip-hop’s a nifty tool,
Picked it up, thought it was cool,
I was lost, it’s what I found.
Now, my heart’s no longer bound.
Now, I always keep it poppin’,
Not a second saved for stoppin’
When a tasty beat gets droppin’,
I’ll be set to rock, always ready to resume.
I’ll be makin’ lines from now until I reach the tomb.
You gave me rhythm and a name,
Framed my world and changed my game.
It’s a confounding mystery, something that no words can describe.
The way these words wield powers, the way they build a tribe.
Our words are our strength,
And they go to any length,
To keep fuelin’ up our tank,
So words, it’s you I thank,
And all the masters of the game.
Thanks to you, my life has never been the same.
I will continue to use you, spinnin’ hope out of despair,
Thanks for fillin’ my cup and my classroom, breathin’ your magic in the air.

Dear Time,
I realized you are my greatest love story.
A slow burner that will last the ages.
The classic tale of enemies, to friends, then lovers.
Our friend Life introduced us.
I didn’t care for you at first.
Apprehensive of the moments that flew by way too fast.
You ripped family away.
Turned them into just memories
That could evaporate.
Childhood turned into adulthood in a blink of an eye.
The life I was living, was hard to live by.
I struggled to hold onto the past,
While the lessons of the present were slipping through my grasp.
My future turned into this clouded, dense fog;
The life I was living versus the feelings I was feeling
Felt like such a contrast.
I thought you broke me.
Angry for time I could not get back.
Hurt that days felt like years, but years flew like minutes.
I was stuck in this timeless loop that I could not break.
But Healing, she re-introduced us.
She taught me that you are rare and timeless.
While your hands may count down the hours, minutes, even seconds,
Your presence reminds us that nothing lasts forever, and that’s why you’re beautiful;
You make us remember that life is precious.
You have been so patient with me, Time.
There have been too many moments, too many trials, where I blamed you.
But that was Grief, Pain and Sorrow disguised as you.
Unbeknownst to me, you gifted me with the kiss of time.
Holding my hand while I healed.
Cradling my heart when I had to release and let go.
Encouraging me when I took the time to grow.
So, thank you, Time,
For all you have done.
I now slow down and try to embrace you
As you taught me I only get this one lifetime.
You’re the wrinkles around my eyes,
reminding me of a life full of laughter.
You’re the feelings of joy and pride
when I see my sisters and realize how time flew by.
You’re the tears in my eyes
when I notice the grey maturing my dog.
And you’re the one playing my heartstrings
when I dance to the memories of departed loved ones.
You are a blessing;
you were never a curse.
I’m sorry for the time I took second-guessing your work.
You gave me what I needed,
when I needed it.
I love you, Time.
Thank you, again, for your lessons,
for your patience and grace.
Now it is time for me to cherish you,
as I become the woman you’ve helped me embrace.
Love Always,
Your favorite Redhead
P.S. I’m so excited to see where you take me next.

I love books but the Only One Thing
Is the Love story of God, that to me brings:
Peace and Joy, Contentment to the full-
Like carrying a baby on a baby stroll.

That’s One Thing, that is more than a thing
Always blows my mind, with exciting dreams.
Though not regular dreams as when one sleeps,
Their the dreams of imagination-
That eternal relations keep.

This library daily I seem to walk into
Holding life barely by the Word of Truth.
This thing is a box I’m locked inside,
Never can I get out, It is the place I hide.

But there is always light on the inside,
That from the top it clearly shines.
When I look below I see nothing at all,
For the only place to go, is upward climbing the wall.

Neither can you see in the dark
But the speed of light ran, and has me marked.
Inside this box that happens to be a Book;
Instruction number one is just to simply look.

Then I learn, listen, and live-
No words of my own for you to give.
And no not at all am I ashamed of this,
Nothing belongs to me, I’m lucky to exist.

Though may I hear no luck in vocabulary
I’ll only fear God, but not a fear that’s scary.
Rather a love-try of mutual respect,
One that walks with me and never neglects.

A new life, a new mourn,
In a hidden concealed heart…
But always the same Christ,
Teaching my foolishness to be smart.

I just cannot get out of the Bible,
Shoe-tying knots… For a long while.
Walking into this Cannon of Truth,
Is yes and amen to all good that’s due.

Neer’ would I ever want to be released,
That for me is not a good thing.
I’ll stay chained, a slave of this Book,
Where I know Jesus saves every direction that I look 🙂

2-23-25

Music is a passion that fills my soul with joy. It opens up a world of possibilities, allowing me to craft enchanting melodies that resonate deeply. When the rhythm takes hold, when I’m dancing, lost in the moment. Whether I’m feeling the urge to weep, laugh, or scream, music gives me the freedom to express those emotions. It transcends boundaries, and I cherish sharing its magic with others. Writing music is another joy of mine; I envision myself capturing every facet of life in my compositions. No matter what I’m engaged in, I can translate it into sound. The symphony of notes and harmonies inspires me to create, lifting my spirits and mending my deepest wounds through self-expression. Music is a profound force, a quiet science that intrigues scholars and a frequency that captivates spiritual seekers. Mathematicians can find solace in the rhythm, counting every beat and note. My love for music knows no bounds.

Dearest Ic Cream,
Oh, sweet confectionary delight, how you tempt me with your frosty charm and velvety textures. Each time I approach your cool embrace, my heart races with excitement, like a kid at Christmas morning — if Christmas involved licking and slurping in ways that would make even the bold blush.
I must confess that you are the loveliest treat. With your smooth whirls and delightful array of flavors, you are the summer fling I never knew.
Remember the steamy night when I topped you with hot fudge, whipped cream and sprinkles? You made shudder with delight. And, the cherry, so sweet!
I still remember our first encounter. You were cool and frosty, and I, a hot mess. You beckoned me with your cool allure. How could I resist? I surrendered and dove into your two scoops, watched how you melted just a little, tempting me to go back for more and more.
Remember my dear, you are the most luscious treat and you know how to ignite my passions. Oh the fantasies!
Until we meet again my dear, I will dream of extravagant sundaes and the naughtiest delight of all — the banana split, where you slip in between the slices, topped with sweet, sweet toppings. Oh, the ecstasy!
Yours indulgently,
Shelley

As I gather my thoughts my mind begins to spark up in flames

Opening my brain to the wonderful possibilities of Ifs, and’s, and buts, of what certain things can be

Think.. think.. myself says to me but my arms and fingers start to move on their own without even saying a word to me

Blink my eyes open widely!
As I begin to write down my first line I know It has to start with a fierce beginning that would grab my reader’s attention

but must I mention her thumbs are like a well-trained dog leading to other dog packs that are ready to bark together once and for all

But for once she, who is me that is I is ready for many and all she’s willing to share words with the world even if that means getting out of her shell

See if you’re listening and paying attention it all started when Tionna was 12 creating raps pairing words together making them have a sort of sense

Did I mention these words were in many different alphabetical ways see pay attention “I step up in the booth I go ham on the desk they looking for Tionna there she go where she at. 12 years old got her condos on stack talking about me man y’all just just whack!!”

These words were more than just rhymes it was like a melody that played a certain tone on the radio all night long

Until I she who is me created a song at 17 I finally felt belonged “Personal love” is all I ever needed and wanted but what can a teenager preach or even say huh

Love wow that devotion of picking up that pen and writing words that closely and slowly floated like the ocean I mean no one, no one like Alicia Keys would say could stop me from writing because I’m that person

that fell in love with poetry at the age of…. I mean I told you I’ve been writing since I was 12

Are you guys even listening?
She who is me.. that is her within me is proud of how far she would even come to think that words became a melody and not just some type of beat

But one can recite and speak upon many things just from her thoughts alone or just everything meanings

You see once you find something you love, you can’t let go of that passion because if you do it may crumble you like cookies in an empty box take my advice if you’re asking

I can’t let go of this writing passion see I
finally, found something I love, love, love it’s that something I can’t get enough of writing holds my heart clinger than any sticky glove

But if you all have something you love please don’t ever give up!

My Dearest Blue Pajama Pants,
It saddens to me to write this to you, but I fear it is time we part ways. Lately, you appear to be unwinding at the seams, frazzled and weak. I have worn you thin and despite your best efforts, you can no longer provide for me the way you once did.
Indeed, we have been through it all together. I remember when we first met that glorious night in the hospital. I had just given birth to my daughter and was desperate to get out of that dreadful hospital gown. My mother presented you to me, neatly folded and wrapped in soft white tissue paper, nestled inside a colorful bag. From that day forward, I knew we would be close. I just felt it.
We shared countless nights walking the floor with babies, innumerable mornings spent coffee clutching. You always stuck around for the clean-up too. Remember that one time we painted the house? It was late; we waited until after the kids went to bed. My husband rolled a stripe of sage green paint on you, right on the back. You thought you were finished then, but I still wore you proudly. All the mornings we spent together on the bus stop, it never not once bothered me to be seen with you.
Oh, but now, my old friend, you have gone grey and lost color in places, you’ve lost your elasticity, and the holes are spreading. I’m afraid there is not much more you will be able to endure. They say maybe one more washing. So before it comes down to you completely unraveling, I will leave you now, as you still have your shape and your dignity. When I look back at photographs of us together, fond memories and my adoration for you will fill me.
Blue pajama pants: it is time for me to say goodbye. There will never be another quite like you. I will deeply miss you.
Your devoted friend.